While You Were Sleeping
by CaptainSwanLuver
Summary: Officer Rogers doesn't know who the blonde woman is that he found lying unconscious in front of his apartment building.  And he certainly can't explain the immediate connection he feels towards her or why he feels the need to visit her in the hospital everyday.


**Note:** This was written for the prompt The Girl With No Name from the CS Hiatus Challenge on Tumblr. It contains a few general spoilers for season 7. I have a feeling that Killian's new identity won't have the same accent (boo!), but for this fic he does. I hope you enjoy it! ~Steph

 **...While You Were Sleeping: Part 1/1...**

Officer Rogers walked down the sidewalk toward his apartment, a yawn overtaking him. His shift had ended several hours earlier and he was exhausted, but he found himself heading to his favorite bar for a few drinks anyway. The truth was, he hated coming home to his empty apartment and often used any excuse to avoid it.

He stopped as he made it to the stairs leading up to his building. His brow furrowed at the sight before him. On the landing, lay a woman. His eyes widened, as he ran up the stairs and dropped down by her side. Her blonde hair was sprawled out on the concrete. Her red leather jacket, gray t-shirt, and black jeans didn't show any signs of a struggle. She didn't exhibit any obvious signs of injury, but her eyes were closed. Officer Rogers pressed two fingers to her neck to check for a pulse. She had one, although it was a bit weak.

"What happened to you?" he whispered. He brought his hand to her cheek and stroked it gently. "Don't worry, love. I'm going to get you help."

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911. "This is Officer Jason Rogers. I need an ambulance to my building. 1129 Delancey Street. There's an unconscious woman on my steps. Thank you."

Officer Rogers hung up and looked down at the woman. "Help is on the way."

His eyes scanned her beautiful face and he felt his heart jump in his chest. She seemed so familiar. There was something about her.

He searched the pockets of her jacket and pants for any identification, but found none. He wondered what she was doing on the stairs to his building. Had she had too much to drink and passed out? Was it possible she lived there too? He had never seen her before, but it was a big building and he mostly kept to himself. He was certain that if he had ever crossed paths with her then he would have remembered her.

He took her hand in his and gently squeezed it. As he did, he had the strangest feeling that he'd held her hand a thousand times before.

"Everything is going to be fine," he whispered, as he quickly brushed the feeling aside.

The ambulance arrived a few minutes later and began to treat her. The EMTs loaded her into the ambulance and didn't argue with him when he insisted on riding with her to the hospital.

...

Officer Rogers entered the mystery woman's hospital room. They were running tests, but could find no outwardly signs of what had caused her to lose consciousness. The doctors were thinking it was possible that she was battling some infection, but they wouldn't know more until the test results came back.

Officer Rogers sat down beside her, his eyes drifting up to her face. She was breathing on her own, which was a good sign.

"Who are you, love?" he asked softly.

He'd already called into the station to pull up any recent reports on missing females, but they had come up empty. Maybe she wasn't from around here or hadn't been reported missing yet.

In a city as big as Seattle, many women went missing. Most were runaways or prostitutes, their high risk lifestyle making it difficult to work their cases. And then there were the women who just wanted to disappear. They had an abusive spouse or just needed a change. It wasn't a crime for an adult to leave of their own accord.

Officer Rogers leaned forward and stroked her hair. "What's your story?"

He moved his hand to her left one and lifted it, noticing for the first time that she was wearing an engagement and wedding ring. The nurses had failed to remove them. He ran his thumb across the metal and stone. He stared at them for a long moment, as he felt another pang of familiarity wash over him.

He turned her arm over, as he kept their hands entwined. She had a flower tattoo on her left wrist. Jason removed his hand and picked up her right arm to see if she had any other identifying marks. His brow furrowed at what he saw on her right wrist: a tattoo heart with the name Killian inside.

"Killian," he whispered, as his fingers swept across the heart.

And there it was again. That pang of familiarity. What was that, he wondered.

A moment later, he was ushered out of the room by a nurse who needed to take her vitals. Officer Rogers stared at the woman through the glass, unnerved by the instant connection he felt towards her.

She was married and the name Killian was tattooed on her wrist inside a heart. He wondered if Killian was her husband. Either way, there was a man out there wondering where his wife was. He didn't know her story, but he knew he would do everything in his power to help her.

...

Officer Rogers didn't sleep a wink that night. He couldn't get the mystery woman out of his mind and he certainly couldn't explain the strange connection he felt towards her.

Once at work, he spent hours searching through missing person reports from all over the West Coast. Nothing matched their Jane Doe. Maybe her husband wasn't looking for her. And maybe she didn't want to be found.

His heart ached at the thought. Could she really be so alone that no one missed her? That no one cared enough to file a missing person report? It was still possible that she was from farther away. So Officer Rogers entered her information into their national database for missing persons. He spent the rest of his shift searching through the reports of women who matched her general description. But none of them were her. Any report surely would have included the heart tattoo on her wrist with Killian, along with the flower one on her other wrist.

It was official. As of now, she hadn't been reported missing.

...

"How is she?" Officer Rogers asked Dr. Truman.

The older doctor shook his head. "Not well, I'm afraid. We can't find the cause for her condition. And this morning she slipped into a coma."

Officer Rogers felt his heart sink into his stomach, as he slowly nodded and turned away from the doctor. He walked into her room and sat down beside her bed. He took her hand in his again.

"I'm Jason," he said. "My friends call me Jay."

The name never seemed to leave his lips easily, as if he felt it didn't truly belong to him.

"I wish I knew who you were. I wonder if you have people out there who love and care for you. It seems you have a husband. Do you have children? Parents? Friends? I'm afraid I haven't found any missing person reports that fit your description. I'd hate to think of you being all alone in this world, love."

Although he certainly understood how that felt.

...

Weeks passed with no change. Jason continued to monitor new missing person reports that came in, but none matched her. He found himself visiting her everyday. He would visit her before his shift or after. Sometimes before and after. Visiting the mystery woman had replaced frequenting the bar after his shift. She gave him a reason to avoid his lonely apartment.

He would spend hours talking to her, telling her about his life. Not that there wasn't much to tell. He had no family and his friends were relegated to the officers he worked with. He worked so many hours that he didn't have much time for a personal life.

Despite his good looks, he didn't even have a girlfriend. He wanted a wife and children, but he was beginning to wonder if it was in the cards for him. He dated occasionally, but no woman ever captured his interest enough to make him want more than a couple of dates with her. His fellow officers teased that he was too picky, but he knew better. He knew that when you have a connection with someone, you feel it immediately. When you know, you know.

He stared at the beautiful, blonde woman. He couldn't deny the immediate connection he felt towards her. Jason shook his head. It was ridiculous. How could he feel a connection to a woman he'd never even met? A woman who was unconscious, who had never spoken a word to him?

Jason sighed heavily, silently scolding himself. But he realized in that moment, that he'd spoken to the woman lying in the bed more than he'd ever spoken to any woman he dated. He had told her more about himself than he had ever told anyone in his life.

…

Officer Rogers placed the vase of flowers on the end table beside her. He had taken to bringing her flowers every Sunday. He was the only visitor she ever received. Other patients had flowers and cards and Get Well balloons that filled their rooms, but all she had was what he brought her. He hoped that somehow she could hear him talking to her and knew that she wasn't alone. He wanted her to know that there was someone out there waiting for her to wake up.

Jason sat down beside her bed and took her hand in his, just as he had done everyday for weeks. Sometimes he didn't talk. Sometimes he just admired her. He admired her beautiful lips and wondered what her smile looked like. He admired her long eyelashes and imagined what her eyes must look like. And he pondered for hours on end what her voice might sound like.

He wondered what her job was and the kinds of things she liked to do. He imagined the kind of personality she might have and her likes and dislikes.

The other officers had started to ridicule him about spending so much time with a complete stranger. They told him that there were no signs of any foul play. Without a missing person report and no leads, there was no case to investigate. He had done his duty. But Officer Rogers insisted that it was his job to help people and he wouldn't rest until he had helped her.

Of course, he would never admit that there was something inside of him that just couldn't leave her.

His thumb brushed across the skin of her hand as he held it in his.

"I know what it feels like to be left all alone. My father abandoned my mother, brother, and me when I was just a lad. My mother died shortly thereafter and my brother passed right after I turned 21. He was killed during a mugging gone awry. I moved to the states and joined the police force one month later. I knew I didn't want other families to go through what I went through. I wanted to help people, try to make the world a bit safer."

Even as he said the words, Officer Rogers couldn't quite shake the feeling that his memories weren't his own. He always felt as if he were relaying someone else's life whenever he spoke of his past. There were parts that felt more real to him, like his father abandoning him and losing his mother and brother, but the rest often felt like he was telling a story.

He sucked in a deep breath and then said, "I promise I won't leave you."

…

"Did I ever tell you I like sailing?" he asked, his eyes scanning her face appreciatively. "I don't have much free time, but the time I do have I like spending on the water. I have a small sailboat. I can spend hours out there, watching the waves. It's always helped calm me and distract me from whatever is occurring my life. I'd like to take you someday."

Jason snapped his mouth shut and squeezed his eyes closed, as he ran his hand down his face. What was he doing? Making plans with an unconscious stranger?

But she didn't feel like a stranger. Truth be told, she never had. And the more time he spent with her, the more deeply connected he felt to her.

Yet he knew it was ridiculous. You can't have a relationship with a woman in a coma.

...

It had been almost two months when something occurred to Officer Rogers. His building had a security camera right above the stoop. He hadn't even thought to check it for clues about what might have happened to her because it seemed as if she hadn't met with any foul play. Still, he scolded himself for overlooking something so obvious. He knew that he had let his growing feelings for her interfere with him doing his job.

Luckily for him, the security tapes had not yet been erased. Officer Rogers found the one for that night and fast forwarded to an hour before he returned home. There was nothing until about 45 minutes in. Suddenly, she appeared at the foot of the stairs. His breath caught in his chest at seeing her conscious for the first time, even in grainy black and white.

He watched as she pulled a piece of paper out of a hidden interior pocket in her jacket, one he had failed to notice. She looked down at the paper and then back up at the building. He saw a small smile appear on her lips and he could have sworn she mouthed the name "Killian".

He continued watching as she stuffed the paper back in her pocket and walked up the stairs. She was just about to knock, when a flash of light appeared out of nowhere. His eyes widened as he watched her fall to the ground.

Officer Rogers must have replayed the footage fifty times, trying to determine what had happened to her. Had she been struck by lightning? Impossible. The weather had been perfect that night and the doctors found no signs to indicate that. In fact, they still couldn't find anything wrong with her. Not even an infection.

Jason's eyes lit up, as he realized that the paper must still be in the pocket of her jacket at the hospital. Perhaps it held some clue to her identity. He hurried to the hospital and requested her belongings. He dug the jacket out of the bag and slipped his hand into the interior pocket, smiling as he felt the paper. He pulled the paper out and unfolded it.

His eyes widened in shock at what he found written on the paper: Officer Jason Rogers. Hyperion Heights, Seattle. 1129 Delancey Street.

He shook his head in disbelief. She had come to see him. But why? They had never even met before.

A smile suddenly appeared on Jason's face as he stared at the paper. She had held it in her bare hands, which meant they could get her fingerprints off of it. The hospital had a policy against taking the fingerprints of incapacitated patients without a warrant, which he had tried and failed to get. But now he could get her fingerprints off the paper and run them against the national database. If she had ever been fingerprinted before, be it for committing a crime or for a standard background check, then her prints would be in there.

Officer Rogers smiled. Maybe he was finally about to find out who the mystery woman was.

...

He sent the paper to the lab and they were able to lift two clear thumb prints off of it. Officer Rogers plugged it into the national database and, moments later, got a hit. Her picture, a mugshot from when she was a teenager, popped up.

"Emma Swan," he read softly, a smile upon his lips at finally knowing her name.

And there it was again. Another jolt of recognition as the name left his lips, as if he'd said it a thousand times before.

His eyes scanned the record. She had been arrested for petty crimes before serving time in prison. There was nothing more recent.

Officer Rogers took her name and ran it through their national information database. It included criminal, marriage, death, birth, and employment records. He decided to try the marriage records. A hit came up. A marriage license issued in Storybrooke, Maine.

"Storybrooke," he whispered, trying to ignore that pang of familiarity again.

His eyes scanned the license. It was issued to an Emma Swan and Killian Jones. So the Killian from the wrist tattoo was her husband. Yet he hadn't filed a missing person report. He wondered if perhaps he was dead and the tattoo was in honor of his memory.

Officer Rogers ran his name through the death records, but nothing came up. On a hunch, he ran his name through the criminal records.

He smiled as he got a hit. He had been arrested in New York City years earlier. His mugshot suddenly appeared before his eyes and Officer Rogers nearly fell out of his chair.

The man staring back at him was...him. Yes, he had guyliner on and his hair was a bit different, but there was no mistaking it. It was him or someone that could pass as his identical twin.

Officer Rogers frantically searched the database for any other information about Killian Jones. But the only thing that came up were two birth records where he was listed as the father. He and Emma had two children: Liam, age 8, and Ella, age 6. That meant there were two children missing their mother.

And there it was again when he saw their names. Something felt so familiar.

He returned to his criminal record and looked at his fingerprints. His mouth dropped open at what he saw. There were only fingerprints for his right hand. A notation stated that he was missing his left hand. Officer Rogers stared down at the glove that covered his prosthetic hand.

His mind was racing. Could this be possible? Could he really be Killian Jones? Could his wife be Emma Swan, the mystery woman that had occupied his mind for two months now? Could he really have forgotten about a whole life? About two children he'd had? None of it made any sense.

But, then again, there were things about himself that had never felt quite right. His memories didn't feel like memories. They didn't feel like he had lived them. They felt like stories he had read or scenes from a movie he had seen or even vivid dreams. He stared down at his hand. Had he really lost it in a lawn mower accident at age 19? Because he couldn't actually remember the pain he must have felt and when he replayed the memory in his head, it was like watching someone else. Every memory was like watching someone else's life.

And this would explain why he felt such an immediate connection to Emma. It would explain why he felt a familiarity when he saw the name Killian tattooed on her wrist, when he heard the name Emma Swan, the town of Storybrooke, and the children's names.

Officer Rogers ran his hand down his face, as he shook his head in disbelief.

…

He tossed and turned all night long. Emma's face kept filling his mind. When he squeezed his eyes closed, he could imagine her smiling at him, her eyes twinkling in delight. He even felt like he could hear her voice saying Killian as she looked at him.

But it was impossible. It was his mind conjuring things. It had to be. He had never seen her smile or look at him or heard her say that name. Or had he?

"Bloody hell," he groaned, as he covered his face with his hand.

…

Jason sat down beside her bed and took her hand in his.

"Emma," he said softly.

He could have sworn he saw her eyelids flutter and felt her hand squeeze his at the sound of her name.

He had done a bit more research and found that she had grown up in foster care and had given a baby up for adoption as a teenager while serving time in prison. He knew now that she had known what it felt like to be abandoned and alone, just as he had.

She had switched gears after serving time in prison and had become a bail-bondsperson. He figured she must have used the skill set she acquired doing that job to track him down.

Jason shook his head, as he lifted his hand and stroked her cheek. "I can't explain it, but I felt a connection to you right from the start, Emma. And then I saw a picture of your husband, Killian. I look just like him. But it's not possible, is it? I couldn't possibly be your husband, could I?"

Jason gasped as he felt Emma squeeze his hand. This time, he was certain he wasn't imagining things.

His tongue slowly licked at his lips. There was only one way for him to be sure that the seemingly impossible was actually true. In his heart, he believed that if he kissed her, then he would know right away if his lips had ever touched hers before.

Yet his heart was at war with his head. Kissing a woman in a coma? Even if he did suspect he could be her husband, he wasn't sure it was right.

But then he thought of all of those fairytales he'd read as a child and the Disney movies he'd seen. The ones where the prince wakes the princess with a kiss.

He shook his head, scoffing at his own overactive imagination. This wasn't a fairytale. Life doesn't work like that.

He closed his eyes for a long moment and suddenly an image appeared. He was sitting outside at a table and Emma was sitting across from him, smiling. And then she was leaning forward and kissing him. Jason brought his hand to his lips, his fingertips brushing across them.

This was the first time that a memory he had experienced felt completely real. It didn't feel like a dream or like a scene from a movie or like it had happened to someone else. It was as if he could feel her lips on his.

Jason opened his eyes and his gaze flitted across her face again. Slowly, he stood and leaned down towards her. He hesitated a moment and then brushed his lips across hers. He pulled back and waited. He waited for her to open her eyes and smile at him. But nothing happened. He shook his head, feeling foolish for believing in such nonsense.

He let out a heavy sigh, realizing in that moment that he had become obsessed with this woman and that obsession had clouded his judgment. He couldn't explain why he so closely resembled her husband, but he knew there must be some rational explanation. They say everyone has a doppelgänger. Maybe Killian Jones is his. Maybe this was just a bizarre coincidence. Of course, that still wouldn't explain the fact that they were both missing their left hand or why she had shown up on his doorstep looking for him.

He took a deep breath and shook his head again. He needed to take a step back and clear his head. He needed a break from Emma Swan.

"Goodbye," he whispered and then turned on his heel.

His hand was on the doorknob when he heard it.

"Killian."

It was so soft he was sure he had imagined it. Slowly, he turned back around and found Emma staring at him, a huge smile upon her face.

"Killian," she said again, this time in a stronger voice.

"Emma," he whispered.

He didn't know what came over him, but he crossed the room in two steps and found himself cupping her face, as he pressed his lips to hers again.

This time, a flash of light appeared around them and his mind suddenly flooded with images. They were memories. Memories of his life with Emma and their children.

He pulled back and met her eyes.

"Emma," he said again, a smile pulling at his lips.

Tears were now streaming down her face, as she lifted her hand to caress her husband's cheek.

"Killian, you remember me."

The smile lit up his face as he nodded. "Hello, love."

"I'm so happy to see you," she whispered. Emma swallowed hard. "I'm sorry it took me so long to find you. I came to see you, but Lady Tremaine placed me under a sleeping curse before I could."

Killian nodded, his eyes sparkling. "So that means true love's kiss broke the sleeping curse."

"And returned your memories," she added.

"I thought it didn't work on memory loss."

"It doesn't usually. Maybe this curse is different."

Killian shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I'm just so glad to have you back and I'm glad to be back to myself. How are the children?"

"They're fine. Liam and Ella are with my parents in Storybrooke. They miss you like crazy though."

"I can't wait to see them," he said with a smile.

"We need to help our family first. Then we can all go home together."

Killian nodded. "Aye, love. Nothing can stop us now that we're together again."

"I love you," Emma said, as he swiped at a tear on her cheek. "I missed you so much."

"I love you, too. When I found you on my stoop, I felt an immediate connection I couldn't explain. And I visited you here everyday for two months."

Emma smiled. "You did?"

Killian nodded. "I couldn't leave you. We're true love, Swan. I think our souls would know each other anywhere."

Emma entwined their fingers. "I couldn't agree more."

Killian leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his wife's lips.

"How did you find me?" he asked, as he pulled back.

"It wasn't easy. The locator spell didn't work. I had to come up with a new one. Without Regina's help, it took months."

Killian squeezed her hand in his. "But you did it, Swan. You found me."

Emma grinned. "Don't you know by now, Killian? We'll always find each other."

He nodded and placed another kiss on his wife's lips. They parted and he pointed to the tattoo heart with his name in it.

"When did you get that, love?" he asked, running his thumb across it.

Emma felt tears fill her eyes. "About a month after you were taken from me. It made me feel like a part of you was with me. Whenever I felt hopeless, like I might never see you again, I would look at it and think of you. I would think of how you never gave up on me, never gave up on us. And how you believed in me even when I didn't believe in myself."

Killian lifted her wrist to his lips and placed a kiss on the heart where his name was. "My belief in you is unwavering, as is my belief in us."

"Come here," Emma said softly, as she blinked back tears. "I just want you to hold me."

"As you wish, love."

He climbed into bed beside his wife and pulled her close to him. Emma rested her head on her husband's shoulder, as he dropped a kiss onto her hair.

He looked down at his name badge. Officer Rogers, he thought with a shake of his head. He'd always known something didn't feel right. He'd always felt like something was missing.

Then he found the beautiful, blonde mystery woman lying in front of his apartment building. And it was as if he had found something he didn't even know he'd been searching for: the missing piece of his heart and soul.

...THE END…

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. I'd love to know what you thought. ~Steph


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